I. Fear and Loathing

Don't wanna live in fear and loathing

I wanna feel like I am floating

Instead of constantly exploding

I close the door behind us, locking it. She's looking between the door and me suspiciously now. "What are you doing?" What does she think I'm going to do, exactly? I ignore both questions, and all their possible immoral answers and bite into my hand. "Giving you what you need." I say, holding my palm out towards her. "Drink." Elena stares down at the blood welling up from my hand, entranced. "What?"

"You're a new vampire, Elena, you need warm blood, from the vein. Maybe this will do the trick. –Or not—but just—don't tell Stefan." She's breathing heavily now, not taking her eyes off the blood for more than a second. "Why not?" She breathes. Oh boy. How do I say this? "Because…blood sharing is kind of—personal." That's an understatement. "What do you mean it's personal?" I mean Stefan will kill me if he finds out. Which, undoubtedly, he will; Elena's never been one to keep things from her other half. "—Just drink." She looks down to my hand, I can tell she wants to, and then she looks up at me, unsure, and I nod, urging her on. Her flimsy resolve crumbles and she grabs my wrist and her fangs come out immediately, and she groans, sinking them into my hand.

I love her like this. Her eyes darken, the veins under them standing at attention, the slight snarl to her lips before she bites down. Elena the animal, the predator, not the easily killed human girl. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel grateful to Rebekah sometimes. To see her like this, so strong, so alive, it makes it all worth it. She pushes her fangs deeper, the taste of my blood spurring her on, and the pain is torturous, and searing, and wonderful.

It's hard to draw a breath. The feeling of her drawing on my blood, taking me inside her, her nails digging into my hand, it's all too much. Elena's making these excruciatingly sexy breathy-moaning noises. Damn her. Damn her for making me feel this way.

She's very close to me now, and her head rests against my chest. I stroke her silky hair, reassuring her that everything's okay, that what she's doing is definitely okay. As if she cares right now. My legs feel weak, and when she pushes into me aggressively, drawing even harder, I stumble backwards and my back hits the wall. I am fucking rock hard; I swear I could cut through steel cable. It's taking all I have not to grind against her. Hell, it's taking everything to not fucking jump her in this bathroom, right now.My veins are absolutely singing for her, the strange pulling sensation lighting fire to my senses. I feel like I'm in a dream. Nothing should feel this good.

I'm feeling lightheaded, and I know I need to ask her to stop. But the euphoria of her bite makes me hesitate. I don't want it to stop. Ever.

I have to focus so that I have enough air in my lungs to speak. "Elena, enough." She doesn't respond. "Elena." I repeat, tugging my arm lightly. Her body pushes me hard into the wall and a feral growl rumbles from her petite little mouth as she digs deeper with her fangs, grinding her teeth a little, tearing more flesh than she needs to. I feel my fangs drop as intense pain shoots up my arm and I moan, my eyes roll back into my head and I forget what a moment what I need to do.

"Elena, —ah—I don't want to hurt you. You need to let go—or you're going—ughn—to hurt me." I grunt out. I feel her swallow hard against my hand, there's a pause, and she finally rips her fangs out of me. Goddamn that hurts. "Okay, ouch." I mutter, moving my hand to eye level to inspect before the incriminating damage disappeared. It is an absolute, bloody, shredded mess. She fucking tore my hand open. "Maaybe try a little gentler with your next meal, kay?" I realize she's not talking and I'm worried that she's put herself on a classic Elena Gilbert guilt trip. Here comes the cry-to-Stefan-about-it express. Great. "Elena?"

Shock hits me when a look up from my hand and see her face. She still has her vampire face on, breathing heavily with blood—my blood—dripping from her mouth. Fuck, she looks hot. "Hel-loo, earth to Elena?" I try, raising an eyebrow. Why hasn't she moved away yet?

Before I know what's happening, she vampire speeds into me, shoving me back up against the wall. I try to ignore the ache in my hard-on this causes and intend to ask her, just when the hell is it that she lost her mind? She looks straight into my eyes, tilting her head, using those inky pools of darkness narrowed in animalistic appraisal. "I wasn't done." She grumbles, and slams her lips into mine.

What on earth—?

My eyes close and I let myself get lost in the sensation of her mouth hungrily moving against mine. Then reality rears its ugly head. It's just blood lust; she doesn't know how to separate hunger and pleasure. Then, she's with your brother. She's happy with him. He'll kill you. Stop her!

Fucking good conscious. What a jack-off.

I pull her off, grasping the back of her neck, and she makes an angry huff. "Easy there, drinky. Look, I really don't want to, but I can't let you do this." I sigh, shove her slightly back, and she stumbles backwards, looking at me with loathing. My tongue moves to lick at the blood she smeared on my face of its own accord. Elena watches intently. She folds her arms across her chest and speaks, "Yeah, why's that?" I roll my eyes and then point to them. "Because of this." While my own eyes are already cleared, hers are still raging with a vampire's lust. This is what she gets for trying to live Stefan's way: horrible lack of control. I don't know what my little brother was thinking.

I groan, "It was a mistake, Elena..." I run my hand through my hair anxiously, "I won't tell him if you don't. It wasn't your fault." She shakes her head, and I swear, if I didn't love her so much, I would kill her. Why can't she just make it easy for me? "No, Damon." She insists. I pull at my hair. Has she gone mad? I use my vampire speed to move close to her, looking down at her. "What? Are you really going to risk your relationship with White-Knight Stefan for a little blood-hazed fun? You're not in the state of mind to be making a decision like this, so just forget about it." My voice is cold, I know that, but she needs to understand, to think beyond her vampire hormones. Never mind what I want.

Her voice comes to my ears, just a peep. "Bite me." I drag my hand across my face and move to exit through the door. She grabs my arm. "Damon, I'm serious, do it and we'll be on even ground. It'll be both of our faults." Her voice is frantic, angry, and horny. Having her drink from me is bad enough. To do it back to her? That's Stefan wishing me an eternity of misery level; and he'd probably mean it. "No, no way." I yank my arm away from her grasp. I have my handle on the doorknob when the smell hits me. My hand drops from the door automatically and I narrow my eyes at her, tilting my head. She fucking cut herself. Her nails are still by her throat, smeared with red, hovering there, and her vampire face is still going strong, a challenge in her eyes.

Vampire blood may not be as appetizing as human blood, but her blood was all Elena, and that more than made up for it. She smells similar to what she did as a human—which is really fucking tasty—but with the distinct pheromones of a predator, not prey. I'm already pumped up as it is, having a hard time controlling myself; doing the right thing…she sure knew which buttons to push. My eyes cloud and my fangs throb painfully in my mouth.

I'm really going to hate myself after this.

"Bad move, baby vampire."

I shove her against the wall, letting a growl tear through my throat. I don't waste any time, and go directly for her bleeding neck. Her skin is soft, like a peach, and I can't help but let my tongue merely drag across the wound first, tasting it. Then biting into its ripeness, a wave of self-loathing and ecstasy rushing through me, into me. She tastes like heaven, sweet, hot, fast-pumping, Elena heaven.

I'm going to whatever hell there is out there. And I couldn't care less.

My straining jeans rub against her of their own free will, and she moans and pushes my head against her neck with her hand. I'm gulping down her blood like its fucking lager on St. Patricks' Day. I can't get enough of it. I'm drunk on it, and my hands roam up and down her arms; grip her hips, her hair, anything at all. This was blood sharing. This was sin. This was fucking fantastic.

I pull out of her neck before I lose myself completely.

"Shit." I murmur, feeling like I just single handedly ruined her life. Her perfect boyfriend, her perfect morals. It's all fucked. Her eyes are starting to clear, and I feel a terrifying sort of fear that I've finally done it, she'll be done with me. Elena blinks twice, as if waking up, and takes two big steps backwards. "Oh my god." She breathes, hand reaching up to touch her mouth. "I-I just—" She looks scared, of what I'm not so sure, but it makes me want to take my ring off and walk right into the sun. Damage control, think, Damon. "Elena, listen to me, this never should have happened." She stares at me with wide eyes. "So, I vote that we act like it didn't." She opens her mouth to protest—"Ah, ah, ah! We already agreed this was a no-Stefan telling zone."

Her face scrunches up, confused. "I don't know what happened, Damon, I—" I cut her off, "—It was blood lust, its normal, Elena, you just got caught up in it, you're young. I shouldn't have…" She doesn't look convinced. "Come on; let's get you home, you can sleep on it before you go blabbing to brother dearest." I say, putting my hand on her shoulder, a strictly non-romantic gesture.

On the way home, she's quiet, and my idiotic body keeps mistaking the tension in the car for sexual charge.

When will I learn?

When my brother puts a stake through my heart?

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